


now i understand what you tried to say to me (how you suffered for your sanity)

by jcp_sob_rjl_lmep



Series: the ragged men in ragged clothes (the silver thorn of bloody rose) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Drugged Bruce Wayne, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcp_sob_rjl_lmep/pseuds/jcp_sob_rjl_lmep
Summary: “Something’s wrong,” Dick murmured into his champagne glass, faking a sip. His siblings, gathered around the circular table, all perked up, inconspicuously glancing around the room. The gala had hit its peak around forty minutes ago and was beginning to wind down, which meant that the Wayne children had sat back down at their table to pick at the remains of their food and chat idly until their father motioned that it was time to go home.Damian, cradled in Cass’ lap, shifted so his eyes were hidden behind the curtain of her hair, allowing him to look around while people thought he was sleeping on his sister. Cass’ head tipped towards Steph’s, giving the appearance of a whispered flirty conversation to hide the fact that they were searching the room. Jason, slumped over onto the table, twirled his spoon around his fingers, seemingly fidgeting but truly using the reflective surface to look around the room. Tim and Duke had their backs to the wall, looking at Tim’s phone; originally they had been playing a game, but a tap of Tim’s finger and his camera was open, letting them look around as well. But Dick wasn’t looking at the rest of the room.Something was wrong with Bruce.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: the ragged men in ragged clothes (the silver thorn of bloody rose) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021621
Comments: 20
Kudos: 292





	now i understand what you tried to say to me (how you suffered for your sanity)

“Something’s wrong,” Dick murmured into his champagne glass, faking a sip. His siblings, gathered around the circular table, all perked up, inconspicuously glancing around the room. The gala had hit its peak around forty minutes ago and was beginning to wind down, which meant that the Wayne children had sat back down at their table to pick at the remains of their food and chat idly until their father motioned that it was time to go home.

Damian, cradled in Cass’ lap, shifted so his eyes were hidden behind the curtain of her hair, allowing him to look around while people thought he was sleeping on his sister. Cass’ head tipped towards Steph’s, giving the appearance of a whispered flirty conversation to hide the fact that they were searching the room. Jason, slumped over onto the table, twirled his spoon around his fingers, seemingly fidgeting but truly using the reflective surface to look around the room. Tim and Duke had their backs to the wall, looking at Tim’s phone; originally they had been playing a game, but a tap of Tim’s finger and his camera was open, letting them look around as well. But Dick wasn’t looking at the rest of the room.

Something was wrong with Bruce.

It was subtle; certainly, the Walmeils, who Bruce was conversing with, wouldn’t notice. But Dick knew his father. He could see the way his fingers were tight around the stem of his glass, the way he was blinking slower than usual.

The way he was beginning to sway on his feet.

The issue was that Dick and Bruce were on opposite sides of the room, and there were still too many people for him to comfortably avoid and be able to reach Bruce in time. Dick pretended to drink the last of his champagne, pouring it into the potted plant behind him and standing.

“I’m going to go tell Bruce we’re about ready to get out of here,” He announced obliviously, refocusing his siblings’ attention on Bruce as they all dispersed around the room.

Dick was halfway there when it happened.

Bruce gave the Walmeils a polite smile, bowing his head. Dick saw him say “Please, excuse me.” He turned. He took two steps.

He began to fall.

It was controlled; Bruce was always controlled. But it was sluggish. Dick could see how he was aiming trajectory - knees hit the ground first, twisting the torso away from obstacles, hoping to give enough time for the arms to come up and protect the skull.

With his response times delayed, Dick knew that he wouldn’t have enough time to protect his head. Abandoning all pretense, he shoved through the group in front of him, pushing to reach Bruce in time. For a moment he thought he was too far away, but when he cried, “Dad!” the crowd of people let him through with just enough time to slide on his knees and catch Bruce’s head.

Duke appeared from the depths of the silent crowd a moment later, skidding to a stop beside Dick. All of the attention was beginning to focus on them, but Dick had been dealing with attention since he was a small child. He couldn’t let it get to him now.

“Help me flip him,” He ordered his brother, and together they turned Bruce onto his back. Dick took the miraculously unbroken glass from his hand, giving it to Duke. “Go find Jason.”

As Duke left, Dick peeled back one of Bruce’s eyelids, checking his pupils. Both of them were enlarged, and Dick began to make the conclusion he already knew was true.

“Dad,” He called firmly. “Bruce, can you hear me?”

“D’k?” Bruce slurred. His eyes were still closed, and he didn’t show any signs of rousing. Jason approached, bending to grasp Bruce’s shoulder and haul him up. Together, Jason and Dick hauled their father from the building as Tim gave a quick statement to the rest of the room, leading them all to believe that Bruce had just drunk too much and would be going home to sleep it off. Duke was sitting in the car when they arrived, waiting on the results of the drug test he’d run on Bruce’s glass.

“Robin and the girls went to see if they could find any clues,” He said as they laid Bruce on the bench seat, raising his arms to let Bruce’s feet fall into his lap. The device in his hand beeped. “It’s positive.”

“Of course it is,” Tim snapped, bringing up the rear. “He never drinks enough to pass out, especially not at a gala, and he hasn’t had a major injury on patrol in the past three weeks.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to try and drug Bruce friggin’ Wayne at a gala with all of his children and a bunch of other people around?” Jason demanded. Dick cleared his throat, giving a polite smile to a couple walking through the parking lot, and shoved his little brothers into the car. Tim lifted Bruce’s head onto his own lap, and Jason took shotgun as Dick started the engine. Relatively private now, they were able to theorize together, especially when the radio beeped and Dick turned it to the frequency of their comms.

“Found anything?” He called.

“Got a positive on a guy slipping something into Boss-man’s drink,” Spoiler confirmed.

They all jumped when the handle on Jason’s door cracked under his grip.

“Shit,” Dick groaned, swerving the car back into their lane.

“Sorry,” Jason muttered, shaking bits of cracked plastic from his hand into the footwell.

“Spoiler, stay out there with Black Bat and Robin. I’m going to stay behind with B tonight, but Hood, Red, and Signal-” Dick paused, glancing at Duke in the rearview mirror. Duke nodded. “-should all be out there soon. If you need any equipment, let one of them know.”

“Understood,” Spoiler signed off. A groan came from the backseat.

“Bruce?” Tim said. “Bruce, can you say anything?”

“T’m,” Bruce mumbled. “Drugged m’.”

“We’re going out to get the guy that drugged you,” Tim replied. Bruce retched once, then fell silent.

“Did he throw up?” Dick asked. They were nearly to the bridge that led to Bristol. “If he’s throwing up, you need to-”

“I know,” Tim snapped. “He’s not throwing up. He gagged and he’s unresponsive again.”

“He’s shaking,” Duke noted, first calm, then with growing alarm. “Fuck, he’s really shaking, guys.”

“Jason, belt,” Dick snapped. Jason moved once he had the order, pulling his belt off so quickly that a few of his belt loops broke, tossing it back to Tim, who folded it in half and placed it between Bruce’s teeth.

“Is it a seizure?” Duke asked, panicked.

“We can’t know without the dosage, but probably not,” Tim said, voice strained, his arms wrapped around Bruce as he tried to keep him from falling to the bottom of the car.

“We’ll be home soon,” Dick sighed, pressing the gas pedal to the floor.

* * *

Alfred was already standing outside when they pulled up. Dick came to a haphazard stop, making sure that the backseat door was closest to Alfred before he set it in park and hurried out. Working together, everyone got Bruce out of the car; Tim and Duke ran inside once Bruce was steady on his feet, Dick under one arm and Alfred under the other. Unfortunately, he was still mostly unconscious; fortunately (or not) everyone in this family was used to carrying unconscious bodies.

“Master Jason, could you get a glass of ice water and take it up to your father’s room for me?” Alfred requested. Jason hurried inside without a backward glance, not quite running, but certainly fleeing the situation. Dick compartmentalized - later, he promised, once Bruce was secure, he’d talk with Jason. It had to be fucking with his head to see another parent under the influence of drugs, and Jason had never responded well to that.

“Come along now, that’s a lad,” Alfred said almost absentmindedly as they hauled Bruce inside. Dick wasn’t sure if Alfred was speaking to him or to Bruce, and for a moment the cruelness of it all lanced through him, the fact that every night they made Alfred watch his son and grandchildren leave for injury and even the chance of death. Every night he sat at home and waited for bad news, and then he woke and did it all over again. Nights like this proved that not even their civilian lives were safe. For a single moment, he hated not only Bruce but himself.

But the moment passed, as it always did, and they lifted Bruce to his room. In a stroke of luck, Bruce had a moment of lucidity long enough to help carry his weight on the stairs, though by the time they reached his room he was limp once more.

Dick set his father on the bed with a groan, rolling his sore shoulders, but Alfred didn’t even pause, heading over to Bruce’s drawers and plucking out some more comfortable clothes. The next dilemma: someone needed to stay with Bruce and make sure that he slept off the drugs. It wasn’t really a dilemma, Dick knew that he would be the one in Bruce’s room tonight. But seeing it upfront - to think of Roy, of all the nights he had spent on Dick’s couch, blitzed out of his mind; worse, the nights that he hadn’t spent on Dick’s couch, all of those mornings where Dick woke up and wondered if that would be the day someone would call him to the morgue, pull back the sheet and ask him-

“Master Dick?” Alfred called, with the tone of someone who’d said it more than once.

“Sorry,” Dick apologized, moving to help Alfred change Bruce. “Hey, I can stay with him tonight, if you want to take your usual shift in the Cave.”

“Are you certain?” Alfred asked. His gaze was piercing; for a moment Dick wanted to be a child again, nine-ten-eleven-twelve years old, darting in for stiff British hugs and fond endearments as his scraped knees were patched up. He ached for the days when all of his problems could be placed on the shoulders of his guardians, the absolute trust that as long as he said it out loud, someone else would fix it.

“Really, Alfie,” Dick attempted a smile, not as cheerful as usual, but under the circumstances it was acceptable.

“Very well,” Alfred accepted after another moment of staring. “I can finish changing your father, Master Dick. Why don’t you go and get comfortable to stay with him?”

* * *

In the time it took for Dick to change out of his suit, go wash his face in the bathroom (avoid his own eyes in the mirror, fight back nausea, try to forget how Bruce had fallen as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut, the track marks that Roy had always had up and down his left arm, scrub his face just a little too rough), and pick out a book to read, Jason had reached Bruce’s room with the water.

With Dick ready to take responsibility, Alfred headed downstairs, leaving Jason and Dick alone with their father. Jason set the glass on the bedside table, looking everywhere but Bruce, who laid on top of his covers. Dick maneuvered himself between Jason and Bruce, watching a little bit of the tension seep out of Jason’s shoulders.

“I’m gonna head out,” Jason muttered, beelining for the door. Dick glanced at Bruce, then mentally cursed as he followed his brother. Bruce would be fine for the three minutes he needed to talk. “Jason, wait!”

“Hey,” Dick said, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Jason tensed, glancing away. His teeth ground together, but he shook his head once.

“Seeing him fall-” His voice was rough and he cleared his throat. “It, uh. It made me think of my mom. For a split second-”

Jason’s voice broke. The sentence trailed off into silence. Dick didn’t need him to finish it either way. _For a split second, I was that kid again, watching her fall_.

“You sure you want to go out tonight?” Dick checked. Jason’s eyes lit up, his mouth twisting into a scowl. Dick flicked him on the earlobe before he could yell. “Hey. I’m not doubting your capability. I’m asking you if you really want to go out tonight or if you would rather stay in with Alfie.”

The fight drained out of Jason’s shoulders. Quieter, Dick added, “Those memories take a while to go away, Little Wing.”

Jason curled his fingers into a fist, then stretched them out. “I’m going out tonight, and I’m gonna beat the ass of the guy that drugged my dad. But I can’t. I can’t see him tonight, Dick.”

“I know, Jase. It’s okay. Bruce wouldn’t want you to see him like this anyway.”

Jason snorted humorlessly, shaking off Dick’s hand and continuing his path down the hallway. A moment before he disappeared, he called back, “He wouldn’t want you to see it either.”

Standing alone, Dick pulled his hand back from where it had been hovering, shoving it into his pocket, muttering to himself, “Yeah, well, whatever he would prefer I didn’t see, he’d rather I saw it than any of you.”

With a sigh, he headed back into Bruce’s room.

* * *

The night passed slowly. Bruce continued to wake up to gag, but luckily only actually threw up once; Dick still hauled him to lay on his side just in case, afraid of the choking hazard. Sometimes all he did was gag before his eyes closed again.

Other times, he was slightly more coherent. He attempted to ask questions, but they were lethargic and repetitive. After the third time he told Dick that he had been drugged, Dick accepted the fact that Bruce wasn’t going to have much memory of this night and resigned himself to the knowledge that he would be repeating himself until Bruce fully woke up.

The silence was creeping; Dick had grabbed a book off of the shelf without putting any thought into it, and so he read The Two Towers to Bruce, pulling his mind away from the thoughts that wanted to take control of it. The sun was beginning to rise as Dick read about Faramir’s interrogation of Frodo, and as Frodo learned of Boromir’s death, Bruce’s eyes blinked open, clearer than they had been in hours.

“Dick?” He rumbled, voice hoarse and sore. Dick winced upon hearing it, taking the glass to the bathroom and getting some fresh water for him.

“Do you remember what happened?” Dick asked, sitting back in the chair he’d dragged up to the side of the bed.

Bruce squinted for a moment; his movement was still sluggish, and Dick wouldn’t be surprised if his thoughts were still muddled. Finally, he said, “I was roofied.”

“We caught the guy,” Dick nodded. “Just another attempted kidnapping ransom attempt. After the backlash he caught, I doubt he’ll try it again any time soon.”

“Hnn,” Bruce grumbled, though not angrily. “How is everyone?”

“Mostly okay,” Dick sighed. “But Jason…”

Bruce ran a hand down his face, cursing quietly.

“He’ll be fine,” Dick reassured him.

“I’ll talk to him,” Bruce replied. When he looked at Dick, his eyes were sharp. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Dick attempted another smile. It dropped when Bruce showed no signs of accepting the answer. “What do you want me to say, Bruce?”

“I want you to stop lying to me,” Bruce replied mildly, taking all of the venom out of Dick’s chest. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you, then fine, but do us both a favor and don’t lie to me about it.”

“Fine. I’m not okay.” Dick gave in. “But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.”

Bruce held a hand out to Dick, who took it slowly, unsure of what he was doing. When the grip was firm, Bruce hauled Dick out of the chair, trapping him in an embrace.

“Hey!” Dick protested, smiling. The dread that had grabbed ahold of him when he saw Bruce fall began to recede.

“Dad tax,” Bruce said, ignoring Dick’s squirming. “Gotta get a head start on my hug quota.”

“That’s not a thing,” Dick attempted to break his hold, smacking at Bruce’s ribs, but Bruce only squeezed tighter until Dick was laughing and calling ‘uncle’. Bruce’s grip finally loosened, but by then Dick was comfortable laying on top of him, and the night had been pretty long and stressful.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” Bruce murmured.

“We’re partners, it’s my job,” Dick said, sleepily, content that Bruce was fine. In his dad’s arms, it was easier to push away the thoughts that had been plaguing him. With one last twist of amusement, he added, “Gotta make sure you don’t make me look bad.”

He drifted off to sleep as Bruce’s chest rumbled with laughter underneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, yes, another series. This one will be different drugged scenarios that the Batfam gets to suffer through. *Evil laughter*  
> Anyways, the work and series titles come from the song "Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)" by Don McLean. GREAT song.  
> Downloads are fine but please don't post this anywhere else without my permission.  
> Feel free to come catch me on [tumblr](https://iwillstaywiththemforever.tumblr.com).  
> School is getting busier and it's looking more like I won't finish the card by the end of NaNo, but I'll definitely try for the end of the year if I can't get the end of the month.  
> Love you all and I will see you next time!


End file.
